


Charmolypi || Corpsekkuno

by ASHLII, saltii_ashlii (ASHLII)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Angst, Corpse x Sykkuno, Cute, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, JUST SAD AND SLOW BURN OKAY Y'ALL MASOCHISTIC, M/M, Power Bottom Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Corpse Husband (Video Blogging RPF), Sad and Happy, Slow Burn, Soft Corpse Husband (Video Blogging RPF), Soft Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF), angsty, corpsekkuno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 21:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASHLII/pseuds/ASHLII, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASHLII/pseuds/saltii_ashlii
Summary: *When Sykkuno sees Corpse for the first time, it’s with a sense of impending familiarity that threatens to overcome his senses.It’s with a sense of deja vu so deep it hurts, it pains. It agonizes him.Because he knows those contours, those gentle bends and sharp curves and high cheekbones.He knows those golden eyes with jadeite flecks, and he isn’t ashamed of it.But do they know him?*The question aches beyond anything he’s ever felt.*Corpsekkuno Ancient Greek Lore!AUSo geniunely excited for this one, although I have a million other projects already published and unfinished...but this story idea is just too beautiful to be kept in my drafts. Will be updated every two weeks or so.
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Clarification for anyone who is confused, and for new readers: (fault on the author's part!)   
> \-->Santos is Sykkuno   
> \-->Calisto is Corpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present day- the slanted-word chapters are flashbacks to their past lives ;))

Sykkuno sighs as he closes his stream. It’s nearly three in the morning, and despite the time many of his friends remained on Valorant, their competitiveness shining through even in their sleep deprived state. Rae, Toast, Ludwig- they never get tired, he thinks to himself as he runs a hand through his fluffy hair. Jesus. Poki had left long ago, and soon even Rae and Toast had hopped off. Ludwig wanted two more rounds, but had let Sykkuno go fairly quickly. 

Sykkuno rarely puts his needs before the needs of others, but he’s so exhausted today that he can’t help it. He sighs and takes out his earbuds, ducking behind the prop he uses as his background, and flops on the soft cotton covers of his bed. He’s too tired to change, and besides, the soft-as-a-feather CORPSE merch he’s wearing is beyond comfortable.

Before he lets his clear brown eyes flutter shut, the memory of how chat went crazy stirs him, and he smiles almost unconsciously. Corpse did promise to hand-deliver his merch, but it was all for the fans...he had gotten it in a box, tied nicely with a silky ribbon and a bouquet of flowers. It kind of disappoints him, if he’s being honest. He would have wanted to see Corpse’s face more than anything, much more than a box with roses, if not solely to boost his best friend's confidence. He's quite certain the latter is beautiful, and he doesn't want him to think that he's not. He reassures himself that it would have been the most anticlimatic face reveal possible, and the thought remain that perhaps Corpse would want to reveal his face in a different, more sophisticated way. 

The dim light of his computer monitor illuminates the two scarlet roses that sit in a pristine glass vase, just out of view from the camera he uses to stream. Two red-petal tipped beauties that adorn the vase, simple, elegant, timeless. 

He doesn’t deserve their ethereal presence, but he beyond appreciates Corpse’s action. He wonders why Corpse sent them to him, then remembers it’s Valentine’s Day- and pink creeps into his cheeks.

But Corpse doesn’t think of him that way, does he? Maybe it’s just a platonic thing, this subtle gift for a friend, he decides, but for some reason this reassurance doesn’t make him feel better, rather intensifies the strange sensation growing inside him. Maybe he wants Corpse that way...but he doesn’t. He’s straight, isn’t he? It's probably just a phase. 

He falls asleep, foreign emotions tormenting him as he tumbles into his subconscious thoughts and pinings. Though he’ll forget it all when he wakes up, his mind is a jumble of an alabaster back, rippling muscles, a sunset and a confession left unsaid. 

When the sun rises, the roses glow in their glass vase, as timeless as Time itself. The golden outline is exquisite, sending long, diaphanous shadows across their carmine petals. Sykkuno turns and tosses in his sleep as the love of his past life leaves him in his dreams, his phone alighting with a message- 

**Corpsie <33**

Good morning :DD 

I just had a nightmare lmao...I think it involved u 

Miss u maybe talk on discord later when u see this?

_ Sent, 6:43 am  _

_ In my dreams, we’re real  _

_ In my dreams, I feel for you  _

_ But if I forget it all, if it’s nothing in my memory, _

_ Does it all mean nothing? _

_ In my dreams, I want  _

_ In my dreams, I need  _

_ But do you want me?  _

_ Do you need me? _

_ I’ve found you again, and maybe it’s meant to be this time  _

_ But maybe we’re just made of tragedy  _

_ Our love destroyed time and time again  _

_ I want you  _ _   
_ _ But  _

_ Is it enough?  _


	2. Chapter 2

When Sykkuno sees Corpse for the ''first" time, it’s with a sense of impending familiarity that threatens to overcome his senses.

It’s with a sense of deja vu so deep it hurts, it pains. It agonizes him.

Because he knows those contours, those gentle bends and sharp curves and high cheekbones. He knows them like they're his own, an innate part of himself he's determined to protect.

He knows those golden eyes with jadeite flecks, and he isn’t ashamed of it. (Not yet, at least.)

But do they know him? 

*

The question aches beyond anything he’s ever felt. 

*

_"Do you love me, Santos?” The question rolls off Calisto’s tongue easily, as if it were nothing. The older male watches the younger carefully, golden eyes dancing between the formerly mentioned and the folds of his white toga, dyed gold by the sunrise._

_Santo’s eyes stay on the bend of the sunrise, the soft pinks and reds and oranges that just touch the very edge of the sky, as perfect as a painting._

_Of course, it’s all a ploy._

_Nothing could keep his eyes from Calisto- Calisto, the beautiful angel that has his attention, always._

_They learn about gods and goddesses and themselves, the loyal servants that supposedly keep those higher entities happy- but Santo is sure that Calisto deserves mortal deities of his own, with his otherworldly beauty, intelligence, and charisma- for he himself is not nearly enough. It surprises him that Calisto prefers his company over other, more enticing options._

_He does love Calisto. Of course he does. But the kind of love that Calisto is demanding they share must be the platonic kind- the kind that consists of brotherly competition and friendship, the kind that Santo cannot share with the other. Because the shame that lives in the hearth of Santo’s heart knows he loves Calisto more than that- more than the kind that forms after years of friendship and hardships and friendly competition- a sensation he doesn’t have a name for._

_He’s not sure how to answer in a truthful manner, which is one of their rules for conversation, as rare as it is, so he doesn’t._

_The silence stretches on between them, although Santo’s hand lies just inches from Calisto’s own, a sign of a conversation unfinished, a thought unheard. Calisto doesn’t notice- his face is still agonized, pained. He doesn’t know why Santo hadn’t responded to him, Santo realizes in a guilty rush. But when he opens chapped lips, willing the words to come, they don’t. Calisto gets up, brushes his spotless toga off, and makes his way to the path they used to get to the craggy mountainside, posture perfect as always, the way they’ve been trained for. Only Santos would know the way the muscles beneath his skin ripple in frustration and anger, tense and hard. Only Santos would know the curves and bends of his perfect ivory skin, shimmering in the dawn light._

_He shouldn’t know, but he does._

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the confusion in terms of characters, yes this is sort of an introduction chapter! 
> 
> Hope this was okay and please leave kudos and comments, they keep this sleep-deprived, exhausted author alive :DD
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you!


End file.
